Elm Street Memories Pt 2
by Ghostwriter
Summary: Ten years ago, they locked up Fredrico Torres. They thought it was over. They were wrong.
1. Prologue: Bad News

ELM STREET MEMORIES Pt. 2.

AUTHOR'S NOTE/DISCLAIMER

Direct continuation of Elm Street Bond. Yes, I know---different titles, but I've seen other series doe the same (7th Heaven, BTVS). I take Fred Krueger's back story, the glove, and a variation of the jump rope song from NOES, which belongs to Wes Craven and put it in here. 21 Jump Street belongs to Stephen J. Cannel.

PROLOGUE: BAD NEWS

LATER THAT SAME DAY

A group of teens sat around a living room, drinking beer and watching the news.

"Man, this is the life," Dennis Leary stated, nursing the can in his hand.

"It sure is," Tommy Rogers agreed, taking a big gulp of beer.

"I'll drink to that," George Parsons stated, doing the action.

"Dude, you'll drink to anything," Tommy teased. Everyone laughed.

"Hey, turn it up," George's best friend, Larry Swanson requested. George did as he was told.

"And in breaking news, child murder and rapist, Fredrico Torres was released earlier today," the anchorwoman announced.

"You believe this trash?" Larry asked in disgust. Tommy froze, the can mid-way to his mouth. All he could see was **him**. That smile, those clothes…the can dropped to the floor and he heard someone calling him from far away.

"Tommy?" a voice asked. Someone shaking him brought the boy out of his reverie.

"You all right?" Larry asked.

"I'm, uh---I'm gonna be sick," Tommy stammered, and then raced to the bathroom. As soon as he got there, Tom Hanson immediately upchucked into the sink.

"Tommy? You all right, man?" a voice asked. Receiving no answer, Dennis Booker came beside his friend. "Tommy, what is it?" he questioned.

"He's out. Oh, man. He's out," Tom whispered.

"Who? That guy on the news?" Dennis queried.

"How---how am I supposed to tell the others? We---we thought this was behind us. And now---" Tom leaned over the sink again and continued retching.

"Hey, is everything okay in here?" one of the other boys asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Uh, Tommy's feelin' a little sick. I'm gonna go take him home," Dennis said.

"Yeah. All right. Hope he feels better," the boy commented.

"Yeah, thanks," Dennis stated. Then, "Come on, Tommy. Let's get you outta here." With that, he led his friend out the door and to his apartment.

"You okay? You want me to get you somethin'?" Booker offered. _Not that I know where anything is_, he thought to himself.

"There's---um, I think---a bottle of scotch in the top right cabinet. Man, I need a drink," Tom answered shakily. Dennis quickly got the bottle and poured two glasses as they sat at the kitchen table.

"What's going on, man?" he wondered.

"Trust me, man. You don't want to know," was the answer. Then, he quickly downed his glass. Dennis watched as Tom poured himself another glass.

"Tom, are you sure that's wise?" Dennis asked.

"Bite me with a twirling lawnmower," Tom shot back.

"Jeez. Don't bite my head off," Dennis muttered. He sat back and watched as his friend continued to drink.


	2. Chapter One: Back To The Basics

DISCLAIMER

21 Jump Street belongs to Stephen J. Cannel. I only own the plot. Some of this is like the beginning of NOES, but only as an homage. Hopefully, I've made it different enough.

CHAPTER ONE: BACK TO THE BASICS

In an old burned down warehouse on Elm Street, Fredrico Torres sat at a worktable, constructing something by hand. He rasped evilly. He had to make sure everything was perfect for his comeback. He had to make sure that no one would mistake him for somebody else. There was an old piece of brown leather cloth which had been fashioned into a glove. Torres chuckled in sinister satisfaction at his handiwork. Yes, this would do very nicely. **Exactly** how he had envisioned it: old and ominous -looking. He bolted the glove to a strong piece of metal and then began fastening the blades into the finger-holes. He grinned in anticipation. Soon, everyone on Elm Street would know fear again. They would scream and cry for mercy just like they did ten years ago. Especially those four brats who had led the mob that had burned him. He'd make them pay **dearly** for their sins. He'd make them **all** pay.

"One, two, Butcher's coming for you," he said as the first blade went in. "Three, four, better lock your door," he chanted, slipping in the second blade. "Five, six, you're in a fix," he stated tightening the third blade. "Seven, eight, it's way too late," he proclaimed, as the fourth and final blade was locked into place. He stood up and flexed the glove, allowing them to stretch over his right hand. _Ah, perfect fit. Just like old times_, he thought to himself in satisfaction. Then, letting the blades scrape against the wall, "Nine, ten, Freddy's back again!" His laughter echoed eerily through the building.


	3. Chapter Two: Warning

SHOUTOUTS/ANSWERS

Jayme: Thanks. Glad you approve. Here yo go, hope it's soon enough.

DISCLAIMER

Upped the rating due to content. 21 Jump Street belongs to Stephen J. Cannel. Back story of Torres belongs to Wes Craven. Other than that, I own everything else. I don't know if Hanson has a blender in his kitchen, but for this fic, he does.

When Tom woke up on the couch hours later, he found himself surrounded by various empty bottles.

"Aw, man. How much did I have to drink last night?" he wondered, carefully sitting up.

"Too much," a voice answered. Surprised, Tom looked up to see Dennis, who was busy making something in the blender.

"Booker, what the heck are **you** doing here?" he wondered.

"Hey, someone had to make sure you didn't give yourself alcohol poisoning," came the retort. Then, "Sorry in advance." Before Tom could ask what for, the other officer turned on the blender. He moaned unhappily. A few minutes later, Booker walked over to him with a glass full of something Hanson wasn't sure he wanted identified.

"What is that?" he asked suspiciously.

"The famous Booker Hangover Remedy," was the answer. Still wary, Tom took the offered glass. He took a sip---and nearly gagged.

"Oh! That's nasty! What is that, man?" he wondered.

"Family recipe," his friend responded. "Bound to keep ya from drinking for oh---at least a month," he continued.

"Ugh! It's horrible!" Tom complained.

"Keep drinking. It won't work unless you finish it," Dennis told him. Tom made a face, but did as he was told. After he was finished, Tom slowly got up.

"Whoa! What are you doing?" Dennis asked.

"I've got people I've got to call," Tom said.

"Who?" Dennis wondered.

"Rod, Melissa, Kelly…" Tom's voice trailed off.

"Why do you need to call them?" Booker wondered. Hanson ignored him and went to the phone. Then, he dialed a number. He only had to wait a few minutes. Then, "Kelly? It's Tommy. Did you see the news today?" He listened to her response. "I've got some bad news, Kell. They released Torres." Booker heard a faint shriek from the other end of the phone, and some banging. "Kell, I'm sorry. I---" Booker didn't hear the response, but from the pained expression on his partner's face, he could tell it wasn't something good.

"Yeah. I---I know. I know. I, uh---I gotta call the others. Let's meet at our place tonight, huh?" Tom suggested. Then, he hung up, and then dialed another number as Booker stepped closer. Then, "Hey Melissa. Listen, I hate to kick ya when you're freaked after your attack, but Fred Torres was released earlier this morning."

"What? Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh," Melissa Rawlings said.

"Kelly and I are gonna be at our place tonight. Why don't you meet us there?" Tom suggested.

"Right," Melissa agreed. Then, "What about Rod? Has anyone told Rod?"

"I'm gonna do right after we're done," Tom assured.

"Okay, then. Tonight," Melissa agreed. They hung up.

"Hanson, what's going on?" Booker wondered.

"Man, this is gonna **destroy** Rod. But I---I can't let him find out through the tube," Hanson said, ignoring his friend. Then, he dialed a third number.

"Yo, talk fast," Tom heard a voice say.

"Hello to you too, Rod," the officer quipped.

"Tommy? What's going on? Somethin' from my case?" Rod queried.

"No, worse," Tom answered.

"What could be worse?" Rod wondered. Tom turned so that his back was to Dennis. "The Butcher," he whispered.

"What about him?" Rod demanded.

"He was…released…early this morning," Tom revealed softly.

"No! They said they wouldn't! They said that---" Rod began.

"I know, I know. Believe me I know," Tom interrupted. "If you can make it, we're gonna be at our place," he continued.

"I'll make it. I've been stickin' close by just in case you guys need me for somethin'," Rod told him.

"Great. See ya then," Tom responded. Then, he hung up.

"What's goin' on?" Dennis asked.

"Tell Fuller I'm takin' tonight off," Tom ordered. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

"Hanson!" Dennis shouted.

"Tell him it's a family thing," Tom said. All Booker could do was watch as his friend walked out the door.

"Guess this means I'm cleanin' up," he said quietly. Then, "Aw, man! This isn't even my house!"


	4. Chapter Three: Break Down And Comeback

SHOUTOUTS/ANSWERS

Lynny: Thanks

Windyfontaine (ch 1-3): Yep. Thanks. Actually, Hanson was undercover so I was writing him as the suspects saw him. Sorry for the confusion. Yep. Enjoy. Thanks. Sorry 'bout that. Enjoy. Glad you approve. Hope it's what you expected. No prob. Thanks. You too.

Jayme: Thanks. Yeah, he grew on me.

NikkiCee: (ch 1-3): Thanks. Glad you liked. Thanks. Glad you approve. Thanks, here's more. Well, here's hopin'.

DISCLAIMER

21 Jump Street belongs to Stephen J. Cannel. The back story for Torres belongs to Wes Craven.

Late that night, Tom made his way down Elm Street and to a now run-down boiler room.

"Playground, sweet, playground," he grinned to himself. For a moment, he let himself get lost in the memories of him and the others running around the place, playing hide and seek, just hanging out...a hand on his shoulder brought the officer out of his reverie.

"You're slippin', Kiddo," a voice teased. Tom glared at Rod.

"Knock it off, Rod," Melissa chided, as she and Kelly walked in.

"Thanks for coming," Tom said.

"I can't believe they released the Butcher," Kelly stated.

"Yeah, I know," Tom responded.

"How could they? Everyone knows what he did," Melissa worried.

"What are we gonna do?" Rod wondered.

"I don't know," Tom said. Then, to the surprise of the others, he began hitting the wall.

"Dang it! I had him! I **had** him!" he exclaimed.

"Tommy!" Melissa cried desperately.

"I had him! They should've let me do it! They should've let me do it!" Tom screamed.

"Hey, hey, hey. Come on, man," Rod said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I had him! He was hurt! I could've ended it!" Tom continued.

"Tommy, stop!" Rod pleaded, turning him around.

"Dang it, I had him! He was right in front of us! They should've let me kill him! They should've just let me kill him!" Tom shouted, his voice breaking. "Why didn't they let me kill him?" he asked softly. His friends looked at him with equally pained expressions on their faces. It was a question they had asked themselves for the last ten years. Why hadn't their parents just them end it? Why had they been stopped?

"He was---he was right there. **I**---was right there. It would've been so simple. Everything would've been fine if they had just let me do it," Tom stated hoarsely. He let out a labored breath. "They should've---they should've let me do it," he insisted. He dropped to his knees, bringing Rod with him.

"Tommy," Kelly murmured as she and Melissa bent down to their friends' level. Rod turned to look at them.

"We'd all be better off if Fred Torres had never been born," he growled angrily. Meanwhile, a car pulled into a driveway. The boy got out of the car and headed for the front porch. In the bushes, a figure crouched, waiting. Just a little bit further and he'd have him. The boy continued until---something sharp hit his right leg. With a cry, he fell to the ground. Torres quickly dragged the boy towards him and put a gloved finger to his lips. Then, he hoisted the teen over his shoulder, carried him to a sedan, dumped him in the backseat, and then drove away. There was no trace of what had happened except for a piece of paper tucked safely under a rock.


	5. Chapter Four: Fear

SHOUTOUTS/ANSWERS

LibraryTech: Yep. Well, sorta, just keep readin'. Yeah.

Jayme: Thanks. Okey-doke.

Windyfontaine: Yeah. Yep. Oh, yeah. Well, here ya go. Thanks, you too.

Hanson's Hot: Thanks. Glad you think so and it's i-n-t-r-i-g-u-i-n-g. Hope this is soon enough.

DISCLAIMER

Familiar characters belong to Stephen J. Cannel. I only own characters you don't recognize. Back story for Torres belongs to Wes Craven. Spanish used was translated from an English/Spanish dictionary, so if anything's wrong, I apologize.

Moments later, Charlie and a rookie officer, Henry Parsings, stood in the driveway, looking for clues as other officers talked to the boy's parents.

"Hey Charlie, is that a note under that rock?" Henry questioned.

"Good eyes," Charlie complimented.

"Thanks," Henry beamed. The older man carefully picked up the note and put it in a plastic bag.

"What's this, 'One, two, Butcher's comin' for you' stuff?" Henry wondered.

"Oh, dang it," Charlie sighed to himself. "Gather everyone up. I want a special taskforce for this," he ordered.

"Charlie?" Henry asked.

"I wanna catch this freak ASAP," the older man snapped, before walking away. Henry hurried after him. _What is going on?_ he wondered to himself. Meanwhile, Tom, Rod, Kelly, and Melissa finally walked out of the boiler room and headed out in silence. They couldn't believe what was happening. All they wanted was to be safe again.

"Hey, check it out!" Melissa suddenly exclaimed. The other three followed her gaze to see a bunch of officers at a house.

"Oh, no," Kelly sighed.

"Sagrado vaco. It's started again," Rod said in dread, crossing himself.

"I'll go talk to Charlie," Tom stated. Before any of the others could respond, he walked up to the scene.

"Hey! Hey! You can't be here!" Henry shouted.

"Charlie," Tom said.

"Tommy," Charlie acknowledged with some trepidation in his voice.

"It's him, isn't it?" Tom queried.

"Yeah, I'm---I'm afraid so, Kiddo," Charlie confirmed.

"That the note?" Tom asked.

"Sorry, kid. That's privileged information," Henry brusquely stated.

"Yes, this is the note," Charlie told him. Henry turned to the older man in shock. What was going on? Why was he telling this kid about vital evidence?

"One, two, Butcher's comin' for you," Tom whispered in sing-song voice. He blew out a breath.

"Charlie. Wh---why didn't you just let me kill him?" he questioned softly. Charlie looked around furtively and took the officer aside.

"Tommy, don't do this," he reproached.

"I had him, Charlie. This wouldn't be happening if---" Tom cut himself off with a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to blame you. I'm just scared, Charlie. I don't want him comin' after me again. Or---or any of us. Especially Rod. You **know** what he said to him and what he threatened to do if he got out," Tom reminded the man.

"Has he said anything?" Charlie questioned in concern.

"No. I don't think Torres has tried anything with Rod. It's---it's just officer instincts I guess," Tom responded. He sighed and mussed up his hair with his fingers. "It's all starting again, Charlie. The worry, the fear…" He glanced back at his friends.

"I'm gonna go," he said softly. Then, he walked to the group.

"I---is it the Butcher?" Melissa asked. Tom nodded.

"C---could you guys come over tonight? I---really don't want to be alone," Kelly requested.

"I don't think any of us should be alone tonight," Tom said. "Let's go," he continued. With that, they all headed for the girl's house. Rod and Melissa were the last ones inside and the boy locked the door from the inside.

"Three, four, better lock your door," Melissa sang to herself.

"Come on. Let's get some sleep," Rod suggested. With that, the group went into the main bedroom.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

"Sagrado vaco" is Spanish for "Holy cow".


	6. Chapter Five: Late Confrontation

SHOUTOUTS/ANSWERS

NikkiCee: Thanks. Here's more.

LibraryTech: Well, sorta. Yep. Again, yep. Here you go. Enjoy.

Windyfontaine: Thanks, glad you like. Yeah, I wanted a good guy who just didn't know about Jump Street. Yeah. Okey-doke. Here you go. Thanks.

Jayme: Oooh, I'm glad. Your fiction wish is my command, lol. Thanks.

Hallie: Thanks. Here's the next chap. Thanks. Here you go.

DISCLAIMER

Back story for the fic belongs to Wes Craven. 21 Jump Street belongs to Stephen J. Cannel. I only own characters you don't recognize.

The next morning Tom moaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," a female voice teased.

"What the---who did I---" Tom began to ask in confusion.

"No one, you goof," the voice answered.

"Lissa, what time is it?" Tom queried.

"Eight-thirty," Melissa responded, looking at her watch. Tom's eyes flew open.

"I'M LATE!" he jumped out of bed and grabbed his car keys. Luckily, he was still wearing the previous days' clothes, so he didn't have to worry about getting dressed.

"Whoa, Dare Devil. Slow down," Rod advised.

"Can't. Late. Lift?" Tom responded.

"Your station," Rod answered.

"Okey-doke. Car," Tom told him, gathering up the rest of his stuff.

"Got it," Rod agreed. Then, he hurried out of the house as Kelly came in.

"Rod? Tommy?" she queried in confusion.

"Car. Late," was the answer.

"Uh-oh," Kelly stated. She quickly moved out of the way as he raced out the door.

"Don't crash!" Kelly shouted.

"Never do!" Tom acknowledged as he went out the door.

"Hope they don't die," Melissa commented as they heard the screeching tires. As the mustang roared down the street, Rod clutched the edges of his seat. He had forgotten what a crazy driver Tom was when he was late.

"Dude, don't kill us," he said between clenched teeth.

"Relax. We'll be fine," was the response. Rod began speaking in Spanish.

"Dude, you don't need start with the "My Father"s. I'm **not** gonna bust up," Tom snapped. The only answer was more prayer. Not soon enough for the musician's liking, they were at the station. When they stopped after a loud screech, Rod shakily got out of the car and they walked towards the entrance.

"Oye, remind me to never get in the car with you again when you're late," he said, as they walked in.

"Oh, stop overreacting," his friend scolded.

"Overreacting? Tommy, you must've gone ten miles over the speed limit and through every red light," Rod reminded him.

"I was late!" Tom defended himself.

"So you decided to live up to your nickname?" Rod asked.

"Que malo, Rod? Pollo?" Tom shot back.

"Bite me with a twirling lawnmower," Rod declared. Tom stuck his tongue out at his friend.

"Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Straight-as-an-arrow Tom Hanson sped and ran red lights?" Booker questioned. Rod stifled a laugh.

"Straight-as-an-arrow? The Dare Devil? What are **you** on?" he wondered.

"They don't know 'bout that part of me, Rod," his friend told him.

"You're kiddin'. You've been sellin' yourself as a straight arrow all this time?" Rod queried.

"Come on, man. You know the Dare Devil died the night my dad did. I reinvented myself. Made someone my dad would be proud of," Tom told him.

"Your dad was always proud of you, man," Rod stated. Before anyone could say anything, Captain Fuller came out of his office.

"Okay guys, I just got off the phone with downtown and they want us to collaborate with them on this new case," he declared.

"What, the missing kid?" Doug queried.

"That's right," Fuller confirmed.

"Why?" Doug asked.

"I asked the same question. According to an officer downtown, we have an inside man to the crime," Fuller replied. Tom and Rod froze.

"What do you mean, Coach?" Tom wondered.

"Why don't **you** tell **us**, Hanson?" Fuller responded.


	7. Chapter Six: Revelation

SHOUTOUTS/ANSWERS

Hallie: Thanks. Hope this is soon enough. No prob.

DISCLAIMER

Back story for Torres belongs to Wes Craven. 21 Jump Street belongs to Stephen J. Cannel. I only own the plot and characters you don't recognize. I kind of use a scene from NOES 3, but only as an homage.

Tom and Rod stared at the other officers, who were waiting expectantly. Tom nervously licked his lips, which were suddenly parched.

"I'm waiting," Captain Fuller told him.

"I'm, uh---I'm sorry, Coach. I can't help you," Tom said hoarsely.

"Really?" Captain Fuller queried.

"Really," Tom replied, his voice becoming a bit stronger.

"You're saying you don't know anything about a man named Fred Torres, a.k.a, The Butcher?" Fuller asked.

"That's---that's what I'm saying, Coach," Tom stammered.

"Come off it, Hanson. You blew chunks when you heard he was released," Booker stated. "You called your friends and told them that he was out. Now you can deny it all you want, but you **know** who we're dealing with," he continued. Tom's eyes flashed, but he just silently walked to his desk, Rod at his heels.

"Well, come on, Hanson. Who is he? What do you know about him?" Dennis persisted.

"Booker, stop it," Judy chided.

"No, I'm not gonna stop it! We have a brutal killer on the loose, and Hanson's playing footloose and fancy free with crucial evidence," Dennis accused. Before anyone could stop him, Tom lunged at Dennis and shoved him against a desk.

"I don't need **you** telling me about Fredrico Torres!" he shouted.

"So you **do** know this guy?" Doug confirmed.

"**Everyone** who grew up here knows about The Elm Street Butcher," Tom answered, releasing Dennis and turning to his other friend. "He'd lie in wait, take you from the drive…" his eyes became pained as he stepped back. Then, he began to sing. "One, two, Butcher's comin' for you. Three, four, better lock your door. Five, six, you're in a fix. Seven, eight, it's way too late. Nine, ten, never—never---" Tom's voice cracked.

"Nine, ten, never seen again," Rod finished the sing-song rhyme. Everyone looked at the musician.

"You think I don't know what Torres can do? You think I don't know how scared that kid is? Huh? Do you?" Tom shouted. By now, he had the whole chapel's attention. They watched as the officer angrily unbuttoned his shirt. "I may not wanna talk about him, but believe me when I say I want Fredrico Torres dead." Judy left out a soft gasp. Criss-crossing her friend's chest were a series of four razor-like scars.


	8. Chapter Seven: First Victim

SHOUTOUTS/ANSWERS

Hallie: Yeah…thanks. No prob. Wow. What a compliment.

LibraryTech: Thanks. Here ya go.

NikkiCee: Thanks. Here you go.

DISCLAIMER

Well, this was originally supposed to only be a two-part story, but it looks like it's gonna branch off into a third part. Back story belongs to Wes Craven. Other characters belong to Stephen J. Cannel. I only own the plot. Hanson's revelation scene is similar to the one in NOES, but only because it worked out that way, and no infringement is intended.

"Oh, my gosh. Hanson," Judy whispered.

"You guys wanna know who Fred Torres is? He's a filthy child-murdering rapist who took twenty kids in my neighborhood. Kids I grew up with, played with…it drove everyone crazy when we didn't know who The Butcher was, but it just got worse after they found him," Tom said, leaning against his desk. Rod's eyes clouded, but he said nothing.

"Well, didn't they put him away?" Doug queried.

"Oh, it was a pretty good case with everything Charlie, my dad, and the others had gathered on him, but then---some rookie mishandled the evidence and Torres was freed just like that," Tom said.

"Well, what did you do?" Judy wondered.

"Me and some of the others followed Torres back to the warehouse he took us to. We poured gasoline in a trail up to and around it. Then I lit a match and we all watched it burn," Tom revealed.

"How did he survive?" Dennis asked.

"To this day, we **still** don't know how Fred Torres got out of there, but he did it," Rod answered with a scoff.

"What I don't get is why you and your friends decided to do it. You had no right to take the law into your own hands," Judy accused.

"Give me a break, Jude! He got what he deserved! Torres took it into **his** hands to steal our innocence! I was a virgin until Torres got a hold of me!" Tom shouted, his voice cracking. Judy's throat caught.

"Oh, Hanson," she said. He drew in a ragged breath.

"Anyway, he came stumblin' out just as my dad and Charlie got there. I---I grabbed my dad's gun, cocked it, and started to pull the trigger---but he---he and Charlie talked me down. Said it wasn't worth it," he finished.

"Then they arrested Torres and put him in jail where he belonged," Rod stated.

"Until now, that is. Now they've released him and it's starting all over again," Tom told them. For a moment, everyone stared. Rod came up beside Tom and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Rod, I don't---I don't know if---if I can do this again. What if---what if we don't find this kid? What if Torres kills him? It'll be **my** fault because **I** didn't kill him!" Tom exclaimed.

"Tommy," Doug approached.

"I had him. I shouldn't have let them talk me down. I should've just ended it. It'd all be better if I just ended it," Tom whispered.

"Come on. Would you have really been able to live with yourself if you **had** killed him?" Dennis asked.

"Yes," Tom answered.

"You're serious," Dennis said in surprise.

"Dang right I'm serious," Tom confirmed. He sighed shakily. "Should've just shot him," he continued. He raked his fingers through his hair. Meanwhile, in a warehouse, the kid struggled against his cuffs. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew he wanted out. Then, he heard the screeing. _No_, he thought to himself. He didn't want this freak touching him again. However, there was nothing he could do. He was trapped her.

"One, two, Butcher's comin' for you," the man sang. The teen shook as the man came closer. "Three, four, better lock your door," he continued. He knelt down beside the teen and let the blades caress his cheek. The boy shook and panted laboriously.

"Please…not again," he begged. Torres chuckled. He could almost taste the kid's fear. It exhilarated him…**excited** him.

"So young, so refreshing," he whispered in his captive's ear. Then, he let his blades pierce his stomach. "Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end," he mused as his victim slumped against the wall. Then, he quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper, pinned the note on the boy, hoisted him over his shoulder, and then headed for his sedan. Torres drove back to the boy's house, unceremoniously dumped him in the drive, and then sped away.

TO BE CONTINUED…


End file.
